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It’s on days like this that Ningguang realizes how much she loves Beidou. When they have nothing to do but lay around and be with each other and ignore the outside world. Beidou’s so tender in these moments, kissing each one of her fingers just to see her laugh and carrying her around the house. This love only seems to have multiplied now that they’re starting a family of their own, and Ningguang’s finally showing.
Beidou’s hands are almost constantly touching her stomach, ever since the baby bump has started to protrude, eyes wide with wonder.
“When do you think we’ll be able to feel them kick?” Beidou asks quietly, Ningguang laying in her lap and her hands finding their way to her stomach once again.
“It’ll be a while, I think they still have some growing to do,” Ningguang says. “The doctor said that they were the size of a grapefruit right now.”
“I can’t wait to meet them.”
Ningguang leans back to look up at Beidou and kisses the edge of her jaw, “Me too.”
Things are perfect at home. But at work . . . things are also good.
Which is odd.
As professors, they are almost always at each other’s throats. They’re academic rivals. But recently . . . she hasn’t seen Beidou on campus recently. Instead of picking a fight, it’s like she’s avoiding her. This is bothering Ningguang more than it should, to the point it’s bleeding over to their home life.
“You look like you’re thinking pretty hard,” Beidou kisses the top of her head. “What’s bothering you, baobei?”
“Nothing,” Ningguang insists. They don’t talk about work at home, and they don’t talk about home at work. This is the system that works.
“Come on baobei,” Beidou says, playing with a strand of her hair. She leans in and nuzzles her nose into the crook of Ningguang’s neck, tickling her. “Tell me.”
“It’s about work,” Ningguang concedes under Beidou’s soft touches. She can say that much, drawing the line in the sand.
“Oh,” Beidou freezes. The ball’s in her court, it’s up to her to decide if she wants to cross the line and burst their bubble. Of course, Beidou’s never been one to handle things carefully, “Is it one of your students? Too much work? Is it that asshole Tartaglia again-?”
“Beidou,” Ningguang sits up abruptly so she can face her. “I feel like I should be the one asking you this. You . . . I haven’t seen you at work, at all.”
The bubble has burst, lines blurred, so Ningguang doesn’t mind speaking out like this. Beidou at least pauses, reaching for Ningguang’s hand and holding it, waiting for a confirmation. She squeezes it, letting her know that it’s okay to continue.
“Everything’s fine,” Beidou says, running her thumb across the back of Ningguang’s hand comfortingly. “It’s just that at school it’s . . . hard to see you and not see the mother of our child, right now. And the doctor said you shouldn’t get too stressed out, that it would be bad for the baby. So I don’t want to stress you out.”
“You could have told me this,” Ningguang says, leaning forward and cupping Beidou’s cheek with her free hand. “So at least we could be on the same page. Do you know how hard I tried to aggravate you this week?”
“I thought filling the box of chili chocolate with white chocolate was clever,” Beidou admits with a grumble. “Annoying, but clever. But . . . I didn’t want to make you feel, I don’t know, less, just because you’re pregnant.”
“And I appreciate how thoughtful you are,” Ningguang says. “But, we don’t need to call a ceasefire just because I’m pregnant. We can just . . . scale it back. To name calling and snide remarks rather than full-blown academic assaults. I like our rivalry.”
“Alright,” Beidou sighs. “I can do that. Sorry for worrying you.”
“It's okay,” Ningguang kisses her before settling back into her arms and closing her eyes. “And everything will be alright Beidou. Our baby will be fine, and they’ll grow up happy and healthy with two wonderful mothers to guide them.”
“Right,” Ningguang can hear the smile in Beidou’s voice. “Now, do you want to lay here longer, or do you want something to eat? Craving anything odd yet?”
“Ice cream,” Ningguang says, opening her eyes.
“And any odd toppings?” Beidou checks.
Ningguang pauses, waiting for her stomach to tell her what she wants, “Ketchup.”
“Of course,” Beidou sighs as Ningguang lets her up. “Don’t go far.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ningguang leans back onto the couch, pulling up the spare blanket. Yes, she really, really, really loves Beidou, and doesn’t know what she would do without her.